The Great Dream God

On top of the towering, majestic city wall, Princess Ziyang stands with a graceful and slender figure, just like a fairy from the Moon Palace descending to the mortal world.

She was wearing an extremely gorgeous brocade robe. The exquisite patterns embroidered on the brocade were as bright and shining as stars, as if all the stars in the universe were inlaid in it.

The sleeves of her clothes fluttered gently in the wind, like a thread, like the clouds above the sky, or like a plum blossom blooming in the snow, proudly standing alone and proudly against the snow and frost.

Her cold and noble temperament was like a towering iceberg, emitting an invisible pressure that made people feel intimidated and dared not look at her closely.

"Princess, I'm afraid Qing Changtian can't hold on any longer. Should we..." the guard beside him asked cautiously, with a tremor in his voice, as if he was afraid of angering the cold princess. The voice trembled in the wind, like a leaf about to wither in late autumn, full of fear and anxiety.

Princess Ziyang looked down at the city wall with cold eyes, which seemed to be able to penetrate everything and make people shudder.

She spoke slowly, her voice as chilling as the wind in a cold night, "What does his life or death have to do with me? To continue the fight is his mission." Her words were like an icy sword, mercilessly piercing the hearts of those around her.

Under the city wall, Qing Changtian was extremely weak. His body was like a candle in the wind, tottering on the stormy battlefield and could go out at any time.

The sword in his hand seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, as if it carried the entire weight of his life, but he still held it tightly. The knuckles of his fingers gripping the hilt turned white, showing his inner determination and indomitable spirit.

His clothes had long been stained with blood, and the mottled bloodstains were like a datura flower blooming in the dark night, sad, beautiful and desperate.

"Princess, please, let him go, let him come back!" Qingyun cried out in grief, her sorrowful cries were like the cry of blood from a cuckoo, every sound was heartbreaking.

His voice echoed in the empty battlefield, carrying with it endless sorrow and despair, making people feel sad.

His eyes were full of pain and pleading, as if he was begging fate for a little mercy.

Princess Ziyang looked at Qingyun coldly, without a trace of pity in her eyes, and said, "If he can't be used by me, what's the point of keeping him?"

Her words were like a cold blade, piercing Qingyun's heart.

There was a determination in her eyes, as if all the emotions in the world could not move her cold heart.

Qing Changtian raised his head and looked at Princess Ziyang on the city wall, his eyes filled with despair and helplessness.

The original light in his eyes was now covered by fatigue and pain, leaving only a dull look. "Princess, I, Qing Changtian, have never had two hearts. Why are you so heartless?"

His voice was hoarse and weak, as if it was a question coming from the depths of his soul, and it sounded particularly desolate in this silent battlefield.

His eyes were filled with resentment towards his fate and disappointment towards Princess Zi Yang.

Princess Ziyang sneered, and the laughter echoed in the wind, making people shudder. "In this world, only the strong can survive. If you can't win, you are useless." Her words were full of coldness and ruthlessness, as if in her eyes, life was like an ant, not worth mentioning. Her figure looked even colder in the afterglow of the sunset, as if she was an iceberg that could not melt.

At this time, Meng Jin was surrounded by a bright golden light, which was so dazzling that it was like a scorching sun that people could not look directly at it. He shouted loudly: "Qing Changtian, today is the day you die!" His voice exploded on the battlefield like thunder, with endless majesty and domineering. His eyes were full of murderous intent, as if he was a hungry beast, ready to tear the prey in front of him into pieces.

Qing Changtian gritted his teeth, swung the sword in his hand again, and rushed towards Mengjin. His eyes burned with the last bit of fighting spirit, which was a kind of persistence in life and the defense of dignity. "Come on, I am not afraid!" Although his voice was weak, it was full of firm belief, as if he was issuing a final challenge to fate. His figure looked particularly tragic in the afterglow of the sunset, like a lonely warrior, launching a final charge towards an unknown fate.

Meng Jin swung the sword in his hand suddenly, and a sharp sword energy whistled out. The sword energy was like a flash of lightning, cutting through the sky, carrying the power to destroy everything. "Die!" His voice was full of murderous intent, which made people shudder. The sword energy was like a violent storm, sweeping across the entire battlefield, making people feel an endless fear.

Qing Changtian was severely injured in an instant, and blood gushed out of his mouth like a fountain, blooming into sad and beautiful blood flowers in the air. The blood flowers were particularly dazzling in the afterglow of the setting sun, as if it was the last song of his life. His body flew backwards like a kite with a broken string, and fell heavily to the ground.

"Brother!" Qingyun shouted heartbreakingly, his voice full of pain and despair. His eyes were filled with anger and unwillingness, as if he wanted to destroy everything in the world. His tears rushed out like a flood, and the sad cry echoed on the battlefield, making people feel a deep despair.

A deep, piercing wound suddenly appeared on Qing Changtian's throat. The wound was like a hideous crack, devouring his life bit by bit. His body swayed, like a fallen leaf in the wind, fragile and helpless. Blood continued to flow out of his wound, dyeing the ground beneath him bright red.

"I... am unwilling..." Qing Changtian uttered a few words with difficulty, and each word seemed to have exhausted all his strength. His eyes were full of nostalgia for this world and unwillingness to accept his fate, but the wheel of fate ruthlessly crushed him. Finally, he could not hold on any longer and fell to his knees with a muffled "bang". The sound echoed in the empty battlefield, revealing endless sadness, as if it was the last elegy of life.

This voice echoed in the empty battlefield, revealing endless sadness. Then, his body fell down with a bang, and the breath of life completely dissipated at this moment. His eyes gradually became empty, and the light that was once full of vitality and energy was now extinguished forever. His face looked particularly pale in the afterglow of the setting sun, as if it was a canvas abandoned by fate.

The wind was still blowing, blowing across the blood-stained battlefield, bringing with it a bleak and desolate atmosphere. The wind was like a sad elegy, playing the last movement for the lost lives. The wind rolled up the dust on the ground, forming yellow swirls, as if the earth was crying for Qing Changtian. The afterglow of the setting sun sprinkled on Qing Changtian's body, coating him with a layer of tragic gold, as if it was the last respect from heaven for this warrior. The golden light flickered on his body, like the last glory of his life.

Princess Ziyang was still standing on the city wall. Against the backdrop of the setting sun, she looked even more lonely and indifferent. There was no fluctuation in her eyes, as if all this had nothing to do with her. Her hair fluttered in the wind, like a ball of black flame, burning the indifference and ruthlessness in her heart.

"Take Qingyun away." Princess Ziyang ordered, her voice still as cold as ice, without the slightest emotion. Her eyes were firm, as if her decision was irreversible.

"Princess, you will regret this!" Qingyun struggled and shouted, his eyes full of anger and despair. He struggled hard, trying to break free and rush towards the fallen Qingchangtian. His face was distorted by anger, and the flame of revenge was burning in his eyes.

"Regret? I, Princess Ziyang, never regret my decision." Princess Ziyang's voice was as cold as ice, and her eyes were full of determination, as if her decision was unshakable. Her figure seemed particularly tall on the city wall, as if she was an insurmountable mountain.

The entire battlefield was immersed in an atmosphere of sadness and despair, as if time had stopped at this moment. The bloody smell in the wind permeated the air for a long time, like a layer of haze, covering the land. The broken flags on the battlefield fluttered in the wind, as if in silence for this tragedy.